


Trust Fall

by akire_yta



Series: prompt ficlets [492]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 18:23:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12174219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: fr0st6yte asked: John, Gordon, blind?





	Trust Fall

“Trust me.”

Gordon had to do the breathing exercises his coaches had taught him to control his nerves.  But he didn’t rip the makeshift blindfold off, so he figured they were working.  “Trust  _you?_   The last time we had to do anything remotely like this, you walked me into a wall.”

There was a long pause, then the most delicate of sighs.  “Gordon, you were seven and we were playing pin the tail on the donkey at Virgil’s birthday party.”

“I still walked straight into the wall you were meant to be steering me  _away from_.”  But Gordon could feel his pulse steadying.  “Just, please, no faceplants into the brickwork this time.”

“I’ll do my best,” John said drily.  “Okay, ten steps forward please.”

Even with an entire roll of bandaging and a gear bag over his head, Gordon could still  _feel_  the intensity of the light as he stepped forward, edging his way across the research facility, guided by touch and John’s calm, steady voice in his ear.  As he passed under the malfunctioning super-mega-monster lamp that the scientists probably had a good reason for inventing, Gordon felt the intensity of the light pass over from his front to his back.  

“Keep it on, Gordon, even in reflection that light would fry your eyeballs.”

Gordon huffed, feeling hot and stuffy under the hood.  “I didn’t say a word.”

“Uh huh,” John said.  “Okay, reach out, carefully, the door will be in front of you, but it might be warm.”

It was hot enough to make Gordon wince, but he managed to fumble the lock open and tumble through into blessed darkness.  Gordon tugged the hood off, unwound the bandages.  “Um, John.”

"Are you okay, Gordon?”  Only now did John sound worried.

Gordon took another steadying breath.  “I didn’t bring my torch, and all the power must be going to that franken-lamp. I can’t see crap here.”

There was a pause, and then the same suppressed snigger Gordon had last heard when he was seven and trying to stop the nose bleed.  “Okay, Gordon.  Seven paces, straight ahead.”


End file.
